I admit it, I feel a twinge of envy when I see other moms looking cute while running their errands. You know which moms I’m talking about: designer jeans in a size much smaller than mine; cute, current-year, current-season tops straight out of a magazine; perfectly highlighted and coiffed hair; and a well-behaved baby or toddler to complete the look. I, on the other hand, look like a hag with my too-long straggly hair and faded clothes from 2008. Sometimes I may put in a slight effort and slap some make-up on and flat iron just the top layer of my hair but my clothes just can’t be helped. We have been on one income for 2 years now and mom comes last.
Today however I had to go get some hair dye from Cosmoprof (mom has gray and I draw the line on self-neglect right at my hairline) and because I am NOT a cosmo(tologist) prof(essional), I use my sister’s card, I had to at least look the part of one. So I flat ironed my hair to perfection, sealing those straggly fried ends, and put together a casual, cute outfit. Yeah there was fading and spandex involved but I layered my tops and wore some fashionable flats and I felt pretty put together.
So I’m standing in line to buy my stuff and obviously the lady behind me has a baby the same age as Camden and a toddler but she looks like she stepped out of a magazine as a fashion “do”. She’s very nice though so I don’t hate her instantly. Right…    But nobody says “hey lady, you are way too frumpy to be shopping here”  so I buy my stuff and go on my merry way.

I get home and I think to myself “what should we do the rest of this fine day”? I don’t want to waste all of this “cuteness” by staying inside, right? But I have to feed the baby and watch one of the Redbox movies that I didn’t get to see last night, so any plans on venturing out again will have to be tabled for the moment. So I finish feeding Cam and he’s his usually cute, cuddly, playful self after eating so I think that maybe he might actually chill for half of the movie (because expecting to see the whole thing would be waaay too much). Cue the opening credits of Cowboys & Aliens (love that Daniel Craig…) and Camden is resting on my shoulder cooing. All systems go for some movie enjoyment! Suddenly I hear an all too familiar sound but it’s already too late for me to act. Round one goes in the hair. But wait he has more! Round two: on my shirt. At this point I know I am defeated so I take it like a champ as round three goes in my lap. Yaaaayyyyy…….  big. fat. whammy.
So now I have spit-up in my hair (that’s what I get for daring to wear something other than a ponytail), on my semi-not-haggish clothes, and oh yeah, you can forget about that movie, sister. And now the universe is back in it’s proper order….